Chosen Fool (Forever Evermore #5)(95)

Because, the half evaluating me…I knew them.

They were younger versions of themselves, in their early twenties.

I swallowed coolly, maybe a bit too largely, but I showed not one iota of recognition as I turned my attention away from Elder Nelson, Elder Kincaid, Elder Venclaire, and Elder Fergus.

Wait. No.

They were possibly the current Kings. Or even the Prodigies. The dates of their reign were not formulating in my mind. I was multi-tasking, wondering if I should leave now, or if I was supposed to be here as Elder Farrar had indicated, while also listening to the dealer tell me it was a twenty-five-dollar minimum bet with a maximum of five hundred. My contact had already told me this. I passed over two thousand dollars in cash from my small handheld purse with a steady hand and promptly received my chips.

I was going to stay. For the past month and a half I had worked toward this goal. It wasn’t as if I had to speak with them while I tried to catch the eye of the Mage owner, whom I recognized as I’d been given a decent description of him after my contact was drunk one night.

Keeping my eyes firmly off the ‘Elders’ as my first hand was dealt, I motioned to a waitress. I couldn’t help but stare at her breasts when she practically threw them in my face as she bent to ask quietly what I would like to drink. My lips curved in amusement when I saw condoms stuffed down her cleavage. I cleared my throat to keep from laughing, possibly from nerves with who was at my table. I glanced to her blue eyes, her neon yellow hair framing her pretty face in a cute bob. I lifted my brows slightly, asking, “What do you suggest?”

I was flirting in a casual way, trying to get as many connections as I could here. Befriending the staff was always a plus, my most recent predicament with the Manor staff a perfect example of why it paid to be nice.

She whispered, “An hour alone with me instead of all these f*cking men.”

I chuckled quietly, throwing in my ante and keeping an eye on the table’s play before peering up into her eyes. I held her gaze a long moment to show her that she was appreciated, then I clarified in a casual tone, “I just sat down, but I would love a vodka straight up.”

Bingo. She smiled, a real one. “I’ll have that right out for you, Ms…?”

My lips curved. “Farrow. Sadie Farrow.”

She winked as she straightened. “I’m happy you’re here, Ms Farrow.”

“Thank you.” I tilted my head slightly. “And your name is?”

She paused for the barest moment then stated quickly, “Sarah.”

I smiled gently, because that was certainly her real name. “It’s nice to meet you, Sarah.” I let my gaze linger on her ass as she walked away because I knew she would…oh yes. She glanced back over her shoulder, nibbling at her lip nervously to see if I was checking her out. Her eyes gleamed as she hurried to look away. Even prostitutes want to be wanted.

With one connection made, I glanced at the room at large. I, along with the Mage next to me, lost the hand to Elder—whatever he was—Nelson. I scoped out the rest of the female staff. There were five others.

An hour later, one hundred dollars up and after three drinks consisting of vodka, water, then vodka, a pack of cigarettes, a coaster, and—oops—a lighter for my cigarettes, I had officially met all of the waitresses. Every single one of them had given me their real names too, their attention obvious. So much so, they were starting to hover. One was constantly walking by our table every few minutes.

The Mage next to me folded.

I raised before sipping at my vodka.

The Mage leaned back on his seat, turning his head in my direction and stating in a relaxed tone, “Ms Farrow, correct?”

My lips twitched as I sat my drink down and peered at him. Those were his first words of the evening, earning the covert gazes of everyone at the table. “Yes.” My head tilted toward him. “Mr Stellar, I presume?”

Golden eyes roamed my face sensibly, not flinching at the fact I had known he was the owner all along. “You would be correct.”

I hummed quietly, comfortable in this environment. I tapped my fingers on the table and returned his regard. “Now that I’m positive you’ve scoped out the new name on your list using your best capability, am I trustworthy for your establishment?”

His head cocked, and he stated bluntly, “You have no background, Ms Farrow.”

My lips curved. “I’ve often found backgrounds to be tiresome.”

Easy words. “Where are you from?”

“I’ve lived all over the world. Most recently, I’ve found residency in Choep, New York, which I’m sure you already know.”

“You’ve had experience in gambling.”

It wasn’t a question, but I shrugged. “I grew up around it. A real * foster parent I had ran gambling hells like yours.”

“What made you choose my establishment in which to amuse yourself?”

“I live close to here. Plus, yours was the most coveted name I heard.”

“Thus you prefer the glamorous games…”

My smile wasn’t fake. “Not always. I prefer to go where the biggest spenders are.”

“Ms Farrow, the woman brought up in illegal gambling halls, has lived around the world and enjoys the largest bankrolls,” he sipped from his drink, “you know the way things work around here.” He gestured at the table. “Tell me who’s who at this table, because anyone with true skill knows what’s been happening here for the past hour.”